


Just Like Vacuo

by Schneezed



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schneezed/pseuds/Schneezed
Summary: A letter slid into someone’s pocket during a hug is the classiest way to ask if they’re down to fuck.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	Just Like Vacuo

A cold, bleached desk; devoid of all colour just like the rest of this room. So white, so lifeless. Shelves lined with books he’s never read. Files scattered on his desk frantically, no coordination in sight. This isn’t like you. This isn’t how I left you. Then again, it’s not like you were in a much better state back then, either.

Was it a mistake? Should I have done what I did? Do you really mean it when you call me ‘friend’?

My fingers find their way to the letters on Ironwood’s desk. Most are military jargon, I don’t know half of what’s going on. Some of it’s familiar; the embargo, the Winter Maiden, the council seat. He’s got so much on his plate, and he’s trying his best, but...

A bottle. Filled with perhaps the warmest colour in this room, red like a dying rose, encased in a white glass. It’s some kind of spirit, one I’ve never even heard of before. Now there’s surprise. 

My last drink must’ve been back in Mantle. Giving it up seemed difficult, but with how little time I’ve had to myself? I haven’t even had the chance to think about touching the stuff. Which is why my mind is going wild just seeing it. James is late; if I had one quick, small sip, would he notice?

I reach over. The screw’s lose already, not even closed properly. A cold, metal cap between my fingers, there’s a strong waft of whiskey. You can smell the price of it. It almost reminds me of the glasses we’d share on those Autumn nights, the same drink I’d always keep in my flask. 

Without thinking, my hands wrap around the neck of the bottle, softly. I can hear my heartbeat in my chest. This is a terrible idea. I can’t do this. For Ruby. For Yang. Everything’s terrifying right now but I can do this. 

I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. 

“...Qrow?” A voice calls out, my eyes instantly drawn to the source. I try to cover the bottle - pushing it behind me - only to push it too far

“Shit!” Within a second I’m on my knees, catching the bottle right before it hits the ground. But it’s covered in whiskey. The stench in my hands, dripping down my fingers. 

“Qrow.” The voice is sterner, a hand on my shoulder, and another wrapped around my own. I look up... Oh. “Are you alright?”

Ironwood. Eyes staring into mine, the moonlight in his pupils. 

I clear my throat, standing upright and placing the bottle back on it’s surface, shaking his hand off my shoulder. “I didn’t drink any. You don’t have to worry, General.”

“Oh, we’re using titles now, Huntsman?” It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or mocking me. Knowing James, it’s a mix of both.

Scoffing, I lean against the able. Making sure that the glass is no where near my rear. “I thought you liked it. It’s your life now, isn’t it? All of... This. I’ve heard more people call you ‘General’ than even your last name around here.”

Ironwood scratches the back of his neck, shifting his weight to lean beside me. His hand holds the wood with a firm grip, almost as if he’s scared to fall. A theme I’ve noticed; he’s gotten more skittish since Beacon. Even the little things seem to scare him.

“...It‘s been a while since anyone’s called me...” His eyes lock with mine once more, body going lax. Can’t say I’m not flattered. “...You can still call me James. That’s all.”

“That’s all? So, that’s what the hug and the letter were about, were they?” He’d never heard the General speak so softly before. At least, not in a good few years. That hug meant something to him. The letter he’d slipped into my pocket seemed formal enough, but there was a twinge to his writing. Something off. Though, mostly, it was the stain that concerned him. Like a single drop of water hit it.

Ironwood looks away - cogs turning in his mind - thinking of a response, yet it doesn’t come. His lips seem to struggle as he tries to speak. Perhaps he’s simply scared to admit I was right; it’s never been his strong suit. 

“...It was, well- The letter...” James finally sputters. His cheeks are flush, grip on the wood tightening, the leather of his gloves creaking. “That- I wanted to, you see, it’s...”

I can’t help but chuckle softly, planting a hand on his own shoulder. Expressions shared, I can feel just how tight his muscles are. Even beneath how many layers he seems to be wearing. 

A deep breath let go, James closes his eyes. He takes a moment. And then: “...I wanted to ask you out for a drink. That’s, um, that’s the reason for the bottle.”

I wince, but don’t retreat. Finally, he looks at me, sorrowful. “I was speaking with Miss Rose. When I mentioned meeting you this evening, she told me you’d given up the drink. I didn’t... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“It isn’t an insult, James.” Pulling in closer, I lower my palm, close enough that our shoulders touch. “You didn’t know. You’re not a mind reader. Besides, I’ve still got this on me. Even if you knew I wouldn’t blame you for being confused.”

Retrieving the flask from my hip, I give it a brief shake. Nothing but a droplet bounces around within. A remnant of my last, one I’d rather not keep. Even with the memories attached. “...You remember giving this to me?”

Ironwood chuckles. “How could I not? You got so excited, you tried pouring an entire bottle of scotch into it. I had to buy both of us new shoes that night.”

“And they’re still the fanciest pair I own.” With a short laugh of my own, I place down the memento, right next to James’ previous plans for the night. “You shoulda’ known better. Glinda told you so.”

“She tells everyone so.” He retorts, wrapping an arm over my shoulder. Watching him smile... It’s nice. But it’s clear he wasn’t thinking when the red in his cheeks is about as obvious as the sweat on his brow. James goes to lower his arm, but - instead - only loosens it. Keeping me close.

He hasn’t held me like this since our Huntsman days. Down in the bars of Vale, around the campfire at Mountain Glenn, that one night in Vacuo. Good times. 

It’s only then that it occurs to me. “...Why’d you want me here, General? Not like you to have informal meetings when things are so busy.”

A soft gulp, Ironwood loosens his tie, thoughts stuck in his mind. 

“W-Well, it’s important, you know, to keep up morale. And I’m...” James shuffles, just that little bit further away from me. “It’s been pretty... Lonely. I mean, it’s- Friends are hard to come by at the top of the chain. Connecting with old company can be a great thing.”

He nods, trying to comfort himself more than me, earning a laugh. What a goof.

“What? What did I say?” Ironwood raises an eyebrow, concerned.

“You’re so mushy.” I chuckle, leaning in closer to him. “You wanted some alone time. Just say so.”

And - in that split second - he goes more flush than I’d ever seen him, clearly taking my words out of context. The ex-Huntsman turns, scratching his beard with gloved fingers, nervously thinking about his next move. Which would... Wait, was I the one taking this out of context? 

“James.” This time, it’s me raising an eyebrow. “Why did you want me here?”

He scoffs. “You almost sound like you’re accusing me.” 

“I am. You’re not telling me something.” Ironwood shakes his head at my words. 

“What would I be hiding?” He shrugs, arms falling away from me, unable to look me in the face. “You can trust me, Qrow, I’m not- This isn’t anything more than friends having a catch-up. Come on, be serious.”

Rolled eyes and a chuckle; that’s all I can respond with. “This is why we fell apart, James. God, I’m so tired of you Atlus types; ‘work’ this, ‘silence’ that. Stop being ashamed to look at me.”

He merely grips the table harder, face twisted, almost as if he’s in pain. 

...Here we go again. If he won’t talk, I won’t either. “Fine. Good talk.” 

Now this is the James I know; stubborn, scared, and constantly in denial. Not even letting people know what scared him because accepting help isn’t an action he knows. If he wants to say something, he can say to me. I’m not dealing with this again. Even if I feel guilty, even if I want him, I can’t... I can’t do this again. 

So I stand; pushing my weight off the table, it’s time to turn in. To sleep off whatever this was.

Then, a hand, wrapped around my wrist. “Please. Not yet.”

The way James pleads, he’s... This isn’t exactly usual for him. Turning to face him, he doesn’t speak, merely looks at me with those puppy dog eyes. And I want to leave as much as I want to stay. 

“Tell me.” I huff. “For once, James, you don’t just invite people into your space. What’s this drink about?”

Eyes to the ground, frantically darting. Suddenly there’s hair against my chin. Grizzled, untamed. Rough against my skin but not in a bad way. An arm around my waist, pulling me in, a pair of pecs against my own though they’re significantly tenser. It takes me a moment to realise what’s happening. I go to speak, but his lips are on mine. We’re embracing. Deeper than before. 

But - just as I’m getting into it - he pulls away. Not far, just enough to look at my face. “...Is it okay? Can I, um... Do you want this...?”

Shock. That’s the only way to describe my expression. My heart is pounding against my chest, not expecting the sheer rollercoaster we were going through. Joy, spite, confusion; I didn’t know what I felt. What I did know? 

I wanted this. 

So.

Fucking. 

Badly. 

Pulling him in, intertwining my lips with his, I can feel the heat of James’ body as I cup his face. He pulls me in tighter as we rest against his desk, even his strength struggling to hold us up. Reaching down, the tips of my fingers trail along the silk of his tie. The coarse white of his waistcoat. The leather of his belt. And the thin, grippale fabric of his trousers. 

James shudders, forehead against mine, our mouths parted as he breaths. “A-Are you sure...? That’s- We could get caught, Qrow, this isn’t- We’re not safe in here.”

“Since when did you care about being discreet?” There’s a soft rustle as the buckle comes undone; his belt in my hand, I slide it through, letting it drop to the ground. It falls with a clang as my thumb deals with the button on his slacks, then lowering to fiddle with the zip. 

“You keep asking me, but I’m asking you.” My palm steadies, halting between us. Waiting. “Do you want this, James?“

His breaths are quick yet heavy. Sweat on his brow, thighs quivering. “...Take me. Now.”

An answer in the air, Ironwood holds me tightly, flipping us over. My back against the top of his desk, legs wrapped around his waist; it’s happening so fast I can barely catch any of it with my eyes and yet the adrenaline rushing through my veins is screaming for more. 

Struggling with my own pants, it isn’t long before James is dealing with them himself, pulling them over my ass before grinding against my bare skin. 

“Still commando?” He asks.

“Always come prepared.” I jest, grasping his hair and crashing out lips together. It’s hardly romantic, more feral and quick, done for the sake of sweet release. All these years - wondering, remembering - and finally we’re here. 

His slacks audibly fall to his knees; there’s a weight there, between my cheeks, prodding and rubbing with slick droplets running down the underside. I go to moan but it merely echoes in his mouth. 

The weight of Ironwood’s body is certainly something. I can feel him, lying atop me. It’s an undeniable pressure that’s almost painful. Not that I mind. 

It’s a surprise when James pulls away, looking around frantically. “I’m not exactly... Well, it’s- I don’t do this. I don’t think I’ve got condoms.” His face is completely flush. But, then again, so is mine. 

“Left pocket. Wallet. The little bit behind the photograph.” With a wink I give the directions, the General’s hand immediately roaming to grab the rubber within. Sure enough, he pulls out the holder, retrieving the packet. Within seconds it’s ripped open; lube dripping out, onto his fingers as Ironwood slides the latex over his manhood. He seems to groan as he does so. 

A thing for tight places, huh? Good. 

James bends over me once more, the tip of his dick against my hole. Ready. He doesn’t speak, merely kissing me softly as his shaft gradually inches forward. I gulp down, groans escaping me as I squirm beneath him. It’s not painful. It’s not wrong. It feels just right. 

My knuckles are white; gripping his hair, I feel every ounce of his meat burying itself inside of me. Until my ass meets his pelvis. How big can he be? His length rubs against my prostate, yet it feels like it goes deeper in. My legs are wrapped tightly around James but I try to loosen up. Which is certainly easier said than done. 

“Is this okay?” He mumbles between kisses. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I nod. “Y-You’re doing... Mm, you’re doing great, just- Fuck, please, keep moving.” 

Moaning an affirmation, Ironwood slowly slides backwards before thrusting in again, faster than before but not by much. Then he does it again. And again. And again. And again. 

As he looms over me I can see James’ face change; he’s embarrassed and he’s worried, yet he’s begging for more. And I’m not so different; I’ve never had a man go this deep, and never like this. Bent over a desk, showered in moonlight, gently receiving his thick cock. I can’t help but cry out for him. Each moan louder than the last. 

Suddenly, my mouth is covered, though I don’t stop. James tries to shush me but it’s unbearable; I can’t keep quiet, not like this. The General looks back with fear. And - rapidly - his pace increases. I’m groaning, louder and louder, unsure of exactly what’s going on as I feel his change in pace. 

And it’s... Heavenly. The smell of leather and latex on his fingers, watching his face as he fucks me with every remnant of energy in his body. He wants this done. He wants to me covered in cum and out before we’re found. 

I shake my head side to side. 

“W-What, is something the matter?” James asks with concern in his tone. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

I gasp for air as he pulls away that hand. Needing a moment to compose myself. Apparently, talking isn’t easy when you’ve got ten inches inside you. “My feelings, maybe - take it slow. There’s a reason they call it ‘making love’, James.”

There it is. That same smile again as he laughs. 

“Take me slower.” I beg. “Promise, I’ll keep quiet.”

It isn’t long before that tip is inside me; my lips tighten, holding in my moans. Inch by inch, he spreads me open, until he’s right back where I want him. Soft, short thrusts. The edge of that cock rubbing against my prostate. My throat lets out a croak, breathing heavy. James presses his cheek against mine as he begins to groan himself. It’s barely audible, but I’ve got the best seat in the house - those sounds are just for me. Whispered into my ear. 

His leather-clad hands begins to wander all over my body. Up my abdomen, to my pecs. He squeezes as a thumb starts to circle around my nipple, I can’t help but let out a quick laugh. 

“Mm, if there’s anything I’ve missed, it’s how much you can tease me.” I ease into his lap further, able to take that whole length inside me once more. 

James himself chuckles a little, broken up by his sounds of pleasure. “Didn’t you always shower next to me just so you could jokingly drop the soap?”

“Hey, that was one time.” I jest, arms snaking around his back to pull him in closer. “Well, one time on purpose, anyway.”

“And that’s why it happened a dozen, right?” His question is purely satirical. Another love of mine; he could figure me out quicker than anyone.

Even if his nerves get in the way - and he has to ask too many questions - he still knows me, deep down. That’s all I can ask. 

James’ pace quickens, growing needier. That hand slides out from under my shirt; he reaches around, pulling on my wrists and pinning me completely to the table. Even as he rises a little - chest no longer resting on mine - I can feel his full weight on me. 

Those thrusts get faster, harder. He’s getting closer. Closer. Closer. Eyes closed, breathing jagged. His mouth is barely ajar as he speaks. 

“Q-Qrow...” He moans. 

“Do it.” I respond, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Cum for me.”

Those eyes open, pleading with me. “Can... C-Call me it.”

...What? What does he-

Oh. Ohoho. 

With a smirk, I look up to him. Feeling as those pulses slap against my ass. 

“Cum in me, Sir.”

With one final blow, James bends down, lips meeting mine as I feel the condom expand. Ironwood’s hips slowly come to a halt. My cheeks, sore and throughly beaten, can’t even compare to how strange it feels to have him pull out. It’s a bizarre, empty sensation. 

He pulls away, looking like he’s just finished a marathon. I can’t tell if he’s red in the face from that or the name and the memories it might bring. Vacuo was one hell of a ride. 

James stands upright, moving out of my field of vision as I stare to the ceiling. I let out a laugh, head against the wood of the desk. Resting a hand on my head, I hadn’t realised how much I was sweating; I must look like an absolute mess. All that’s left is for me t- FUCK.

My thoughts are cut short as I feel a warm, wet mouth wrap around my own length. I lean upright, resting on my elbows to watch him, almost gasping as he stares me in the eyes. James’ tongue slides up and down, mouth working my shaft with an amateurish pace. 

This is... I’ve never... Fuck. 

“J-James, what’s- Mm~!” I have to cup my own mouth, unable to take it. 

That slick mouth lets my cock jump as James grips it, watching how flustered it makes me. “You didn’t cum. I may be a General, Qrow, but I’m not a bad top.”

Usually - whenever I’m with another guy - this is the opposite of what I’m expecting. I’m the bottom, I do the service. So to have him on his knees... Looking right at me, slipping my dick inside once more, it’s...

I don’t even want to think. My hips begin to buck as he takes a hand, sliding two gloved fingers into my hole. They don’t reach as far as I wished they could, but it felt better than simply gaping. He’s working me, back and forth, my head snapping back as I cancel out my other senses. 

There’s nothing else. Just James. Touching me. Worshiping me. Loving me. 

Suddenly, my balls are in his palm, massaging them between his fingers. How did he get so good at this?! There’s no part of my hips he isn’t paying attention to; and, as my pelvis starts to move that little bit faster, he’s holding my thighs. Pulling his head lower. Taking my entire shaft in his mouth. 

He’s not... He’s going to try swallowing all of this, isn’t he?

As my body tightens, I can feel my balls shrink; pump after pump of hot, white seed shot right into Ironwood’s mouth. I bend my neck, trying to see how he’s holding up. It takes him a moment, but it starts to dribble out. He’s swallowing as much as he can - I’ll give him credit - but he’s barely able to take it all, rising to his feet once he can feel I’m finished. 

James wipes his lips, throat finishing it’s final gulp as he focuses on composing himself. 

“...You good?” I ask, a twinge of laughter to my tone. 

He nods. Lips twisted into a bit of a smile of his own. “That was... A lot more than I expected.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s leaning over me once more. My fingers are instantly finding their way between his night-like locks as our noses touch, forehead rested against each other as we breath together. When he said he wanted a drink, I’m assuming he meant an actual drink. Not... This. Hookups have never been James’ forte, but this? I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bring back some of the best memories. 

Before I know it, he’s kissing me again. And there’s-!

I push him upward softly, chuckling behind a closed mouth. A stand of cum connecting our lips. 

“What? What’s the matter?” James questions, genuinely worried he’s done something wrong. 

“Nothing, I’ve just...” Pinching the string’s end, I fling away the liquid. “I didn’t realise how much was left in your mouth.” 

“I-I thought, well... I read a book, or two, apparently kissing while you’ve still got-.”

I cut him off, pulling him into another kiss. Tongue burying inside. It isn’t long before he’s giving in, too, following along. 

Something tells me we’ll be needing another rubber or twenty.


End file.
